Unsettled, a bird lost from the flock --Keeps flying by itself in the dusk.Back and forth, it has no resting place,Night after night, more anguished its cries.Its shrill sound yearns for the pure and distant --Coming from afar, how anxiously it flutters!It chances to find a pine tree growing all apart;Folding its wings, it has come home at last.In the gusty wind there is no dense growth;This canopy alone does not decay.Having found a perch to roost on,In a thousand years it will not depart.
-Qian Tao
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